


reminiscent

by aaronminyxrd



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, M/M, Pining, basically kuroo looking back at his past, concerning daishou and all those lovely things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 18:10:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6715768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aaronminyxrd/pseuds/aaronminyxrd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“my brother said that Kuroo-kun and Nohebi’s captain have known each other for ages, and every time they meet, they can’t help but start bickering.”</p><p>kuroo tetsurou was twelve when he met daishou suguru.</p>
            </blockquote>





	reminiscent

**Author's Note:**

> ever since that line was said in the manga a million ideas have buzzed in my head so i said to myself "why not start with this one" lmao
> 
> i mean, really. "ages." how long is "ages??" what happened?? i have so many questions tbh  
> also!! im sorry if the formatting seems a bit weird? if you'd like me to fix it i'd be more than happy to.

Kuroo was ten. He had crooked teeth, a wide grin, and the same impossible, untameable hair. He spent most of his days at the local park, playing with kids from his neighborhood and school. Kuroo was energetic, curious, and cunning, but he was also alone. Despite him always being surrounded with laughs and games, he never truly felt as if he belonged with any group, or anyone for that matter. He was simply a stray.

 

It took two years for that to change.

 

Kuroo was eleven. It was then when he began wandering away from his usual areas of the park, preferring to take long strolls in the more unexplored sections, but he was always fidgety. Sometimes he would run, sometimes he would skip, jump, or his hands would simply keep moving in some ridiculous manner. It was when he was eleven, during one of his famous walks, when he discovered volleyball. He finally came across a court, but the people present were much too big and much too old for his liking. As an alternative to interaction, he came to the court everyday to watch the older people play, and tried to mimic their technique afterwards with whatever balls he could find scattered around, but he found it quite troublesome to do it with most of it being half-deflated along with having no one to practice with.

 

It took one more year for that to change.

 

Kuroo was twelve. It was then when he received a _Mikasa_ ball for his birthday. He still had the same tousled hair, the same devilish grin, and the same growing fascination for volleyball. He went to the same court, watched the same people, and trained the same amount. All by himself.  
On rare occasions,  Kenma, whom he met in the middle of his eleventh year,  joined him, but he had yet to meet someone with the same fire and passion he possessed.  
And it was in that same year, when Kuroo Tetsurou met Daishou Suguru.  
New to the neighborhood, he was welcomed by the other children. From a distance, he observed Daishou to be quiet and cunning in their games, deceitful even, and it unnerved Kuroo, resulting in him being skeptical when he one day found Daishou on the other side of the volleyball net, urging him to serve. Though initially reluctant, he eventually gave in to his pleading, and this happened day after day until it became routine. Towards the end of his twelfth year, Daishou was introduced to Kenma, and the three of them became inseparable. A small group consisting of awkwardly tall, perplexing, and quiet, they had often been seen as odd, but Kuroo couldn’t have been happier. He knew then that he was no longer alone.

 

Having finally met someone who was able to understand him, and another who also understood and shared his passion for volleyball, he never wanted what they currently had to change.

 

Kuroo was thirteen. Along with Daishou and Kenma, he had decided to join his school’s junior volleyball team.  He had drive, intelligence, and most importantly, he had potential, but lacked the natural talent to achieve it. With the hope to improve, rather than only watching those in the park, he began studying techniques from live matches, and often spoke of his findings to the two. He had also often expressed the thought of being able to master a personal time difference attack by the time all of them started high-school, to which Kenma was slightly confused about, and so was Daishou, but he agreed excitedly to the thought of practicing with him in order to meet that goal. As his thirteenth year continued to pass, he only grew closer to the two, and Daishou had often shared his wish of them staying this way.

 

But they were just children then, innocent and unaware of the amount of meaning their loosely said words held, and the turmoil their futures planned to unfold.

 

Kuroo was fourteen. It was then when he, Daishou, and Kenma became part of the starting lineup for their school’s volleyball team. He and Daishou had made it a point to practice together (and with Kenma, when he felt like it) at every possible minute, and the frequency of these practices had only increased by the time it was announced that they would be playing a match against their school’s biggest rival academy. Training often went smoothly, but Kuroo had felt discomfort at the times Daishou talked of his preferred methods of winning matches. His fascination towards said methods had only grown since joining the volleyball team, often deceiving both the audience and game officials in the means to win both favor and the match, but it left a bad taste in Kuroo’s mouth. It always had. Maybe it was his self-righteousness or his own sense of morality, but Kuroo then found his heart having to be split between what he believed in and whom he believed in.

 

Days soon turned into weeks, and the match was upon them. Kuroo watched as the ball just barely grazed his fingers, and he huffed in frustration when it hit the ground, but Daishou seemed to have held no interest in the widening point gap of the last set. Kenma, as usual, remained impassive, only offering pieces of advice on occasion. Realization dawned on him when he noticed Daishou consistently marking one of the wing spikers, muttering something too quiet for Kuroo to hear, but he could see the boy’s eye begin to twitch. He played with an air of sudden desperation, frustration only heightening whenever he missed, and Kuroo had watched him completely break down just after they had secured match point. To his right, Daishou hit the ball with as much force as he could muster, and sent it flying right by the distraught boy’s head.  
They had won, but instead of feeling warm joy, Kuroo felt himself shudder.

 

When he looked over at Daishou, his smile was just as cold.

 

Kuroo was fifteen. It was his last year of junior high,  and the chill had never left him. Be it on or off the court, Daishou Suguru was a mystery to him all over again, and all he saw was that boy from the playground all those years ago, and all he could feel was skepticism as well as a sad reluctance. Because of this, he found himself not only loathing their losses, but more so their wins. He felt dirty, cheated, and undeserving. He didn’t want to win through deception and flattery, but through his own and teammates’ skill. He didn’t know at that point who he despised more: Daishou, for choosing this, or himself, for not being able to stop it.  
He spent more time alone to clear his head, but only questions seemed to come.  
Should he confide in Kenma?  
Confide in Daishou? Confront him?  
Let himself just grow accustomed and indifferent to this style?  
But if he did, he wondered to himself, how much of himself would he have to change? To lose?

 

Usually, Kuroo had a strong sense of his own moralities; a clear line of what was right and wrong.  
But what if the person he had grown to love was both?  
  


Kuroo is now seventeen. He hasn’t spoken  properly to Daishou for two years.  
Kuroo and Kenma remained close, but even Kenma couldn’t hide all of his emotions with a blank expression. Like Kuroo, there was still a lingering pain in his eyes.  
Due to matches, the two have seen each other on occasion, but they never stuck around long enough to interact, and Kuroo masked his emotions with a show of distaste and pointless bickering (the only thing he could find himself to do within his presence), but he couldn’t help but wonder what Daishou felt at that moment as they faced each other once more.  
Is this all they were now? Was he angry? Frustrated? Could he be even the least bit happy to see him again? To speak to him again?  
What if he felt nothing at all?  
Kuroo felt himself flinch at the thought.  
Even now, Daishou still had the same tricks, the same style, the same tactics, and it tore Kuroo apart inside; slowly, silently, surely, with every block, every spike, every movement.  
Both of them have become captains of their own respective teams, both growing and improving, with the two exceptions being that they were built on two different foundations, and that they were without the other.  
By their first time out, Kuroo let his eyes meet Daishou’s, and he recoiled at the sight. His smile was still cold. And yet, inside him, he felt hope flutter dangerously. If he tried now, if he tried again, if he let himself finally fight, would that ice thaw?  
Much like Daishou Suguru, the thought was both right and wrong. He tried, though feebly, to talk to him in their last year of junior high, tried to make him see some sort of reason, or at least listen to what Kuroo had to say, but it had all been in vain,  though he never understood why.  
Was it because of pride? His own sense of self-righteousness? Some sort of morality he couldn’t understand?  
Or perhaps what he had been to Kuroo Tetsurou then, and even now, was nowhere near what Daishou Suguru felt in return.  
But he would, most probably, never have the pleasure to know.  
He held Daishou’s stare as Nohebi prepared to serve; unwavering, fearless, relentless, and at that aching moment he couldn’t decide which was worse: that he let the two of them drift apart so easily, or the fact that now, they were neither friends nor rivals---they were simply strangers; mere memories of what had been and what could have been, but never will be.

**Author's Note:**

> i have a lot of feelings about this ship.  
> also is it daikuroo?? bc kuroodai is with daichi so idk what to call them  
> also i'm not sure if this will get 1 or 2 more parts?? but if i have time i might add daishou and kenma's perspective :0  
> thanks for reading <3 uvu (and sorry for any grammar/spelling errors rip)
> 
> come scream with me on tumblr!  
> aaronminyxrd.tumblr.com


End file.
